March 7, 2004

This morning Henny and Jennie and Laura and I got up and circumambulated the temple (or walked the kora as it’s known) - it's about a two mile walk with some very steep climbs and a breathtaking view of the valley below.  This emerges as one of my daily rituals here – a good hike in the pre-dawn.

To get to the start of the kora you have to walk past the main entrance to the Temple, down the hill and past a Shiva Temple, which even at 6 AM has loud music emanating from within.  The path itself is paved and about 1 foot wide – not really wide enough to pass someone who is walking slower (or prostrating themselves on the ground after each step), so a long slow line often results, with people quickly (but respectfully) passing in the wider areas.

On the backside of the temple - about half way through the walk, is a prayer site - three huge prayer wheels, and scores (probably over 100) of smaller ones - you walk past and spin the wheels which are covered with Tibetan prayers – every time one of the wheels spins around you've sent a message of hope and goodwill into the universe (Each is inscribed with the Tibetan for Om Mani Padme Hung) - a nice thought.  I try to keep my mind focused on this thought and find it comforting and enabling, but somehow the prostrations almost everyone else goes through seem too much – seems the ego clings tightly.

Behind the prayer wheels and up the hill are three Stupas with holy relics, and the entire area is covered by prayer flags - there's a solid wall of them in their Yellows and Greens and Whites and Reds.  Each flag has a complex prayer that as the flag waves in the breeze is again broadcast into the universe.  (Apparently you can’t simply purchase a flag and put it up – you should have it blessed by your lama first.)

We walk back to our rooms and then head off to the Gaeki (spelling I’m not sure of) which seems to be the best place to eat breakfast in McLeod Ganj.  Afterwards we all rush back to our rooms, gather our sitting materials (mine consist of a day pack with the core teaching texts, some bananas and tangerines, a couple of bottles of water, and a transistor radio with headsets), and head down to the temple to claim our spots.  Good thing that we arrived early (10:30 AM) because it was starting to fill up.  Cameras aren’t allowed so I’ve no pictures of the masses of humanity or His Holiness inside the teachings.

Sitting nearby are a Russian party against the wall and another in the open seating area, next to me is a woman from Germany (from a town up the Rhine from Wiesbaden where Petra and I lived so many years ago), and her companion (chance from here?, well known from Europe? I’m not sure) Fran from (you guessed it) France.  Up towards the wall next to Ellen is Drew – we double-take on meeting someone with the same name – who is ex-British military communications.  Given my background (Russian Voice Intercept) we immediately bond.  He’s reading a book by Thich Naht Hahn – not Living Buddha Living Christ, but something similar, and I ask him how he’s finding it.  Turns out he’s on about page 8, so we agree to catch up later in the teachings to hear about his findings.

The teachings began around 1 PM with His Holiness coming out around 12:30 to chanting and much fanfare.  Westerners listen to translations of the Tibetan teachings (some simultaneous, others paraphrases depending on the acumen of the translator) that are broadcast over ancient low wattage transmitters – 8 batteries in a row, single frequency, about half a watt.  Today there is absolutely NO English transmission.  It’s humorous to watch all the English speaking attendees moving their antennae around, pointing this way and that – there’s a faint signal, no it’s gone – oh I though it was 91.5, or is it 92?  Here’s the French broadcast, the Chinese, the Russian, but no English.  After a while the grumbling starts – I came all this way and I can’t even understand what’s going on? 

It’s hot under the Gere (yes Richard) roof that defines the Western Section, the Tibetans of course sit out under the blazing sun (on later days it turns into a patchwork of multi colored tarps that are strung to the building uprights and trees growing the in the yard, even later the Tibetans slowly begin to infiltrate the Western Section, and westerners infiltrate the outdoor area in search of better radio transmission, but I get ahead of myself).  Monkeys scamper over the roof with a chatter and noisy footsteps, and throw things at each other.  Birds soar overhead in the cloudless sky.  His Holiness sings on in the melodious tones of reading and commentary.

The tension continues to rise – Matt leaves in a huff (can’t blame him) and I’d be ready to follow, except I’ve tuned into the Russian broadcast and can follow along.  The translation is poor and halting – basically paraphrasing every now and then, but I can understand that His Holiness is giving a recitation of his qualifications to give the teachings we’re about to partake of.  So and so taught him this, and so and so that – all high lamas in their own right, and thus he’s in a position to transmit the teachings to the audience.  He repeatedly reflects how he is but a simple monk, not enlightened, and it is in that capacity he will be teaching.

I’ll review the method of teaching later, but the four texts we’re using for this year’s teachings are:

Milarepa

1) Words of My Perfect Teacher by Patrul Rinpoche

2) Kindly Bent to Ease Us (check this one) by Longchenpa.

3) The Story of Milarepa

4) 100,000 songs of Milarepa.

Sogan Rinpoche, the lama with whom the group I’ve traveled with from the States studies has compiled a Tibetan book for the Tibetan speakers, the rest of us have either lugged the texts from where ever we’ve come from, or tried to buy them in the few bookstores here.  Many westerners are reading the Tibetan versions along with His Holiness.

So, His Holiness is nothing if not a jokester - I mean this, of course in the most respectful way possible - but he has this childish laugh and lilting to his speech which, if you've seen Seven Years in Tibet, is well captured by the film's child actors. He says the most profound and simple things with this laugh, a "hmpf" as he changes gears or directions, that the translator can not capture.

Enough on the context, on with the words that I think were perhaps the most meaningful to me in the entire trip – I can’t remember when they came, so I’ll put them right up front where they belong, sort of the executive summary of the entire experience for me.  Very simply –

Blessed are those that challenge us, for where else would we find the fuel to grow?

Life is full of so many challenges - the welfare people in the pews of my Church (First Unitarian Universalist Society of San Francisco) that take away from the blue blood atmosphere we all, (certainly?), would prefer to find ourselves in (I cannot emphasis enough the sarcasm here in this statement).  The paranoid, schizophrenic, or otherwise mentally disturbed that make us wonder if we'll be alright turning our backs for a moment, or when they'll next have an outburst.  The other idiots on the road that inconsiderately push their way in front of us (hey – I’m supposed to be first aren’t I?).  The interminable wait in the supermarket checkout line – somehow I always chose the slowest.  All these challenges face us and in their own, karmic ways, if we’re listening, help us to grow.

We can react with abhorrence, with fear, with rejection and withdrawal, with anger as we're often wont to do.  Or perhaps we can realize the true blessing these challenges represent - the fractured mirror in which we can really see ourselves for a moment - stripped of our pretenses and facades, and - maybe, just maybe - they can act as a catalyst for the much needed growth we all could use.  Lately I’ve taken to choosing the longest line, and letting others in front of me.  I’m trying to not react to the lane cutters on the roads, and whenever I’m mindful, let the other person go first, even if they got to the intersection after me.  Oh, and to resist the urge to flip off the person behind me who honks at me for not rushing through the intersection, preferably ahead of everyone else so as to get out of their way as quickly as possible.

I've yet to meet an enlightened being (unless it’s Thich Naht Hahn) - His Holiness freely and frequently admits to any and all comers that he isn't one.  Perhaps if we all looked at the world a little more like him do we'd be a little closer. 

I leave the teachings this day a little disappointed – I hear all around me mutterings of “I came all this way and I can’t even understand what I’m hearing” and think to myself how true.  Ellen and Carrie remind me that it isn’t important that you understand the teachings, that’s not critical to receive the transmission, but somehow I’m not buying it – even here on Day One I can’t let go of the fact (as I see it) that a Spiritual Journey is inherently a unique path for each individual, and that what’s important is NOT checking the box on this or that transmission, or just showing up, but how you process the event and its inner teachings / meanings, and what you personally take away from it.  I hope that the next day will bring better radio transmission as I make my way out in the sea of crimson robes to Temple Road and the 2 kilometer walk back up to my guesthouse, a seated toilet, and at some point, dinner.